The words roll over my tongue, playing dead
The calm voice lets everything break, a polite host.
And they whisper reassuringly, “I’m only in your head.”

What the shadow kisses insist is best left unsaid
Breaking without sedation, I have spoken with a ghost
The words roll over my tongue, playing dead.

To see something blue as being blue is to be misled,
Greedily you shared only you, absorbing light’s most.
And they whisper reassuringly, “I’m only in your head.”

There are dreams, a hundred years old, instead.
And I don’t remember waking up. Waves torment a different coast.
The words roll over my tongue, playing dead.

Mirror child, just try to regress to old poems read
And fail. What color will you next boast?
And they whisper reassuringly, “I’m only in your head.”

I dedicate myself to pigments I will always dread
My past, you have escaped the prism… I propose a toast:
The words roll over my tongue, playing dead
And they whisper reassuringly, “I’m only in your head.”